


Small Fears That Come With Dusk

by Thistlerose



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Backstory, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in 2007.  Concerned that his fifteen-year-old son isn't behaving like most boys his age, Jack Kinney gives him a baseball bat and sends him out to play. Brian goes straight to Michael, who's <i>very aware</i> - and appreciative - of his friend's masculinity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Fears That Come With Dusk

"Are you even going to use that for anything?" asked Michael.

Brian brandished the baseball bat. "Ask me again, and you'll find out."

"Ha ha." The laughter faded as Michael watched Brian contemplate the bat. One long, slender index finger touched the tip, and then moved slowly down in a caress that was so blatantly sexual that Michael had to look away.

"Thick," Brian said thoughtfully.

Michael stared at the tree branches, which laced the evening sky like black veins. Between them, the brightest stars shone. In silhouette, the leaves were the same color as the branches, but Michael thought he heard them shivering in the crisp breeze.

At length Brian said, "It's a gift from my dad."

"For what?" Michael thought he knew, but he wanted to hear Brian say it; he liked hearing the things that he knew Brian would only say to him. He also took perverse pleasure in remembering that it wasn't the worst thing in the world to have a dad who was dead; he could have a dad like Jack Kinney.

"He just gave it to me. Said I should go out and play. 'Like a real boy,' he said. 'Like a real son o'mine.'" Brian did a poor imitation of his father's light brogue.

Michael watched the leaves, felt the cold grass blades poking him in the shoulders and thighs. Said bluntly, "Your dad's an asshole." 

Brian was quiet for a few moments and Michael wondered if he'd gone a bit too far. Brian talked trash about his dad all the time but that didn't mean anyone else had the right. 

"Sor—" Michael started to say, but Brian cut him off.

"Mikey. Hearing you swear gets me hard, you know."

"—ry." The syllable flopped back into Michael's mouth. He swallowed.

"Say something else. Come on." 

Michael didn't hear Brian roll toward him, but suddenly there was a body shielding his from the autumn air. Brian's warm breath fanned his chin. "Come on. I know you have it _in you._ " He laughed.

Michael squirmed against the grass. All he could think about now was Brian's hands around that stupid baseball bat, his fingers stroking it from tip to base. He clenched his fists, tried to breath evenly. Off to his right, the playground swings' chains creaked faintly in the breeze. A car went by, its radio blasting Duran Duran.

"Way to spoil the mood," said Brian.

Michael grunted, " _Mood?_ "

"Oh, Mikey." Brian was practically purring. "You should see yourself."

"Well, I can't." He could picture himself well enough, though. Skinny, fifteen-year-old body pressed flat against the grass. Scabs on his forehead and chin from breaking pimples with his thumbnail. White baseball t-shirt with a _Millennium Falcon_ decal. Torn blue jeans, unmistakable bulge.

"Shame," said Brian. "You're beautiful. Seriously. Give me your hand." He grabbed Michael's wrist and shifted closer. "Feel that?"

Michael's fingers brushed denim, then something hard and thick.

And wooden.

With his other hand, Brian was holding the baseball bat between his legs. He laughed when Michael yanked his hand away.

"Asshole."

"Ooh, Mikey."

"Fuck you!"

"Not the woody you were expecting?"

Michael gave Brian a shove and pushed himself up. Trembling, he said, "You can take that fucking bat and shove it up your—"

Brian was up beside him with ridiculous speed. He cupped Michael's cheek and brought their mouths together, choking off the last word. Caught entirely off guard, Michael groped for something to brace himself against, but the only solid thing his hand found was Brian's shoulder, and once it was there he couldn't seem to get it to let go.

_Stop,_ Michael thought, but his fingers only sought a tighter grip. Next he lost control of his other hand, which worked its way up Brian's neck and into his thick, soft hair. After that it was his lips. They parted so Brian could slide his tongue between them, and Michael realized there wasn't any sense in trying. He kissed Brian back and didn't care that he'd been teased, or that he was getting grass stains on his jeans, or that Brian was almost certainly aware of his erection. He was aware of Brian's.

They jumped apart when another car went by, its headlights briefly flooding the playground. When it had gone, Brian reached for him again, but it wasn't for another kiss. He held Michael's face between his hands.

"You're shaking."

"You _kissed_ me," Michael spluttered.

"I've done it before."

"Not—" _Not like that,_ he almost said.

Brian laughed. "We can blame my dad. He gave me the bat, after all."

"Don't think there's any question that you're a _boy._ " 

"Oh, Mikey." Brian stroked his lips with the pads of his thumbs. "You should tell him that."

"What, that you're a—"

"Boy," Brian finished for him. It was just light enough for Michael to see the flash of his teeth as he smiled.

"Yeah. Definitely a boy. You really want me to say that to him? 'Mister Kinney, I just want you to know that your son is unquestionably male?'"

"Just like that." Brian kissed the tip of his nose.

"You don't think he'd doubt _my_ masculinity?"

Brian kissed his forehead. " _I_ don’t doubt it. And I'm the only one that matters."

Michael started to protest, but gave up when he realized that what Brian had said was probably true. Brian took the half-open mouth as an invitation, and this time Michael offered no resistance.

3.31.07


End file.
